


The Hurricanes Came for Me

by tanktrilby



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Multi, Rin having breakdowns and flashbacks, Sickfic, pre-MaRinKa, references to High Speed!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanktrilby/pseuds/tanktrilby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru and Makoto are stupidly adorable together, and Rin is perfectly content to hover in the background, making bad dick jokes and kissy faces at them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hurricanes Came for Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonymonypony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymonypony/gifts).



> I started writing this a very long time ago, when the fourth chapter of [Even as you ask for more, don't forget what we already have](http://archiveofourown.org/works/921452) was published, armed with many suggestions to have a happy place to go to while reading it. While aforementioned story itself is superfantastamazing, the content was pretty heavy, which explains the steadily decreasing cheery tone of the first few sections of this fic. But, but. So much fun!

When he arrives, Rin does it with a bang and a catchphrase: “Mornin’, cocksuckers!”

It’s gratifying to see even the great wall-faced Nanase Haruka choke on his toast after that one. Makoto actually falls out of his chair, cheesy anime-style; his gaze, after Rin helps him back up, is soft and fond and just a little injured. “Good morning, Rin.”

 Rin beams at them both, magnanimous. Then he struts over to where Haru is still gaping like a goldfish and thumps his back a couple times.

Haru’s next glare could cut through glass, but Rin ignores it like a boss and turns, instead, to Makoto. “So what’s the plan for today? We running, or-”

Makoto shakes his head apologetically. “’Fraid not, Rin. I have to take the twins to see a friend in hospital, and after that, kaa-san said we should go to the university and have a look around.”

Processing this, Rin jerks his head away sharply. Makoto, who is perceptive as fuck, seems to have caught his change in expression anyway. His next words are gentle, soft as butter: “I’m sorry, Rinrin. But I’m sure you and Haru-chan will have lots of fun by yourselves.”

“My name’s not Rinrin,” Rin snaps, at the same time Haru says “Drop the -chan.” They glare at each other, and Makoto laughs into the back of his hand.

After Rin has won the glaring match (while Haru can outstare inanimate objects, when it comes to actual malevolence Rin’s unparalleled, unmatched,  _number one_ ) Haru grudgingly pushes the extra plate of toast and mackerel his way. “To keep your energy up,” he bites out, like an insult.

“Thank you,” Rin says sweetly. “ _Prick.”_

“There you are,” Makoto says quietly. “I told you you'd be fine together.”

They both snap around to look at him, and he’s smiling his old Makoto smile, worn to comfortable curves, the thing Rin loves best. Something catches and snags in his heart, like a jagged piece of the past; Rin turns away, and Haru steps forward.

“Makoto,” Haru says, low.

There’s a silence, while they do their freaky telepathic thing and Rin tries to regain his footing in reality. His hands are shaking, and this is ridiculous because he’s past this, he’s past his old wretched burdens and he’s home,  _why-_

“Haru,” murmurs Makoto, and their foreheads come together. Haru’s grip on Makoto’s hand looks fierce. They’re so  _into_ each other it’s embarrassing.

It’s becoming one of those Moments, so Rin stands up, clears his throat, and naffs off to look at the flowers.

While looking at the flowers, he feels his trembles die down, and cold relief washes over his clammy skin. The flowers are great- big and red and faintly exotic looking, not to mention familiar. Rin pokes and prods at them -gently, curiously- and runs a knuckle over the petals. No way did Haru grow these himself. They were probably hell to maintain, and Haru isn’t exactly the nurturing type.

Rin’s planning on dicking around with his leafy friends until he’s certain that he’s not going to walk back into something out of a shoujo manga. Haru and Makoto are disgustingly cute together. The one time Rin accidentally walked in on them making out -they’d already told him they were together, thank fuck, because he would have lavishly and extravagantly flipped his shit all over the walls- the sparkles and moe were in such abundance Rin actually felt kind of sorry for them.

Makoto comes over presently and stands beside him, warm and comfortable. Rin shoots him a grin, and his pretty green eyes widen. “What are they? I mean, what kind?”

 “What?” Makoto blinks a couple of times, rapidly. Rin laughs and nudges his leafy friends. “Oh. Those are a type of hydrangea, I think. Ask Kou-chan.”

Rin cocks his head. “Huh?”

Makoto smiles at him, the jumpy, skittish set of his shoulders relaxing. In turn, Rin’s heart rate slows down, becomes normal. “She’s the one who brought them over. For the welcoming party for our new members.”

Rin feels his eye begin to twitch. “The hell does-“

He trails off. Makoto is reaching over, gently plucking the biggest, reddest monster of a flower Rin’s ever seen off its stem- and then fastening it behind Rin’s ear.

Rin reaches up, bemused. The petals brush his ear, and through the tail of his eye he can see that it’s tiny shade darker than his own hair.

“Fucking hell, Makoto,” he says.

Makoto keeps smiling at him, the soft, spreading smile that curdles every frozen cell in Rin’s body, vibrating warmth and a simple happiness that he’d nearly forgotten. He looks utterly perfect like this- brown hair falling shyly into his eyes, shoulders broad, sunlight on his face.

Rin smiles back helplessly, and the two of them beam at stupidly at each other for a while.

*

“Rin,” says Rin’s rival and friend, a man he respects and admires beyond all else: “The pool isn’t working.”

The whole left side of Rin’s face spasms uncontrollably. His goggles creak in his grip.

“What.”

This time, Haru doesn’t play jump-rope with his nerves. Instead he turns the full weight of his fishy stare on Rin, willing him into Haru’s level of blockheaded stupidity.

They stare at each other. Challengingly.

“Haru.” Rin says, fighting a migraine. “Pools have to be cleaned regularly, right? Even you  _have to_ know this. There is no  _possible way_ for you to not know this. If you say you don’t know this, I’m gonna do something so spectacularly violent even I haven’t thought of it yet.”

Haru makes an irritated ‘tch’ noise and looks away. “Of course I know, idiot. But this is  _Samezuka.”_

“Eh? Since when did Samezuka mean a magic land where the pool water was perpetually clean?” Rin makes a strangling gesture with his hands, and Haru’s eyes narrow. In a marginally more even voice, Rin manages, “It’s ‘cause most of the students have gone home for the weekend. It’ll be ready in a couple hours, jeez, Haru.”

Haru crosses his arms. “Fine. What do we do till then?”

Rin stares at him, bewildered. “What the- we’ll do what we always do. Goddamn homework, Haru, How have you forgotten?”

Haru’s eyes do something stunning then- something that trips on every trigger of Rin’s brain, makes his chest swoop warningly: they go wide and shimmery, life flooding into them, overspilling, crashing around him like a tidal wave. Impossibly blue, like the deepest parts of the ocean when the sun is shining. Dazed, Rin thinks,  _I’ll show you a sight…_

“We-“ Haru stutters, then tries again: “without Makoto, I thought you’d-“

Rin opens his mouth. Locates his voice. Looks away.  _Makoto._

“You aren’t getting away that easily,” he rasps, and begins striding off towards the dorms with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Since Makoto’s not here this week, as captain of the Samezuka team it falls into my hands to keep your ass in gear. C’mon.”

He doesn’t look back to see if Haru’s following. His hands are shaking again.

Rin thinks, frustrated and terribly sad:  _goddammit._

*

The awkwardness doesn’t die while they study; it coils and coils until Rin’s gagging on it, his limbs heavy and movements slow. They don’t let that stop them, though. They were bitterly angry once, and incredibly lonely, and they still managed to kick ass in prefecturals- compared to that, this is nothing.

It’s abrasively nice to know they still haven’t hit rock bottom yet.

Haru is saying, “This isn’t making-“ and scowling at his English book when the door bursts open.

Rin looks up, high-strung with the tension of whatever it was between them, and sees Ai, eyes watery, lip wibbling, hands clasped, dressed in half a bunny costume.

Rin looks back down at his book. If he ignores it hard enough…

“Rin-senpai!” Ai wails.

 “Hello, Aichirou,” Haru says conversationally. Rin glares at him through his bangs.

A few gasps. “I’m so sorry, Nanase-san! I didn’t mean to ignore you!” Some frantic bowing, and a few choky sobs. “I’m so so so sorry!”

Rin sighs, and skewers Ai with the mellowest glare he can manage. “Why are you dressed in half a bunny suit, Ai.”

At this, Ai’s expression rockets through an exhausting series of emotions: panic, fear, blind hero-worship, fondness for the red-haired punk who was fucking up spectacularly one year ago, then back to panic. “Rin-senpai! I didn’t have anything to put on over my swimsuit because it’s laundry day, and-“

“And you put on half a bunny costume that you happened to have?”

Ai shakes his head violently, making his dorky hair whip into his eyes. “Not exactly, Nanase-san! I asked Momo -that’s Mikoshiba Momotarou, who swims backstroke for our relay team, he’s very very good, Nanase-san, but sometimes he feels like he has to be better than his brother but I-“

“Ai,” Rin thunders. At his gasp and subsequent scrambling, Rin tones it down, and says, “C’mon, I’ll lend you a jacket. Let’s go find that little punk.” Over his shoulder, he throws a, “You coming, Haru?”

“I’ll come if I can swim,” Haru deadpans.

Rin hands one of his spare jackets to Ai, whose whole face lights up before his eyes go shiny with the threat of tears again. “Thank you very much, Rin-senpai! Let’s-“

“Wait, goddammit,” Rin grunts, grabbing at a handful of bunny suit to keep him from bounding off. “You’ll need proper clothes for the rest of the day, right? Here, take these.” He pushes a bundle of clothes in Ai’s direction, all in the smallest size he has.

“Rin-senpai,” Ai says, voice hushed. Rin eyes him warily.

Haru snorts.

Rin wheels towards him in a flash, baring his teeth. “You got somethin’ to say, Nanase?”

Haru stares back. Steady. “Let’s settle this in a race, Rin.”

*

Rin storms towards the natatorium, trailing menace and destruction in his wake. Also following in his wake are Haru and a newly de-bunnied Ai, the latter fussing over the former.

“Seriously, Nanase-san,” Rin hears Ai say. “You don’t look so good. Are you sure you’re okay to swim?”

Rin ponders over the blinding stupidity of that statement. What was Sousuke even  _on_ about, saying Ai was insightful. Kid was a combination of elbows, good intentions and adorawkwardness- so ridiculously, unrealistically  _nice_ it defied belief, but insight was one of life’s fine fucking flavors Ai just didn’t have.

He’s about to comment on this -and the way Haru’s just sucking it up, what the hell, Haru- when an orange-and-white figure blurs past them.

Rin’s arms stretches, finds its target; he ends up sort of stabbing himself in the palm with heavily-gelled orange shonen manga spikes, but fuck it, he’s Matsuoka Rin, swim captain from hell, and it takes more than impromptu hair-kunai to get him to back down. He reels a wildly struggling Momo in, teeth gritted, and locks him in place with a friendly arm around the throat.

“Momo-tarou,” he rumbles.

“It was like that when I got there, I swear!” Momo yells. Rin gets an elbow to the face and grunts, tightening his grip. “I didn’t do anything!”

Rin forcibly turns him around to face him. “What are you going on about.”

Momo blinks his big cat’s eyes. “Huh?” Then, his face clears; Rin practically  _sees_ the cogs turning in his head. “That’s right, I didn’t do anything, so…”

His voice sputters and dies down. With reason: Rin’s giving him his sharkiest grin, the one that’s been known to chip wood off tables and make eighteen-wheelers cower. “Say, Momo,” he says delicately. “You ever heard of what sharks do to punkass sea otters?”

Momo gulps.

Before Rin can ad-lib something bloody and brilliant, Ai calls out: “Rin-senpai! Wait up, Rin-senpai! Don’t be too hard on-“

In garish, horrifying slow-mo, Rin watches it happen: Ai, running full tilt at them along the side of the pool; his left foot sliding in a fascinatingly wrong angle; his blue eyes widening in panic, the flailing arms, the shocked sharp intake of breath from Momo; and finally, Ai crashing into them both, shouting hysterical apologies that are peppered with Rin’s own frantic cursing.

Naturally, Rin ends on bottom, with a faceful of orange hair. Around them, the handful of swimmers have dropped into utter silence, with the exception of a serene freestyle stroke coming from one of the further lanes.  _Haru, you asshole._

“I think my spine’s broken,” Rin monotones.

“Nitori-senpai, you landed on my dick,” Momo says indignantly. “This is sexual harassment.”

Ai just wails.

*

Rin presently manages to shoo off his delinquent hangers-on and get to the real shit, namely trying to work out what exactly is wrong with Hanemura’s kick at the end of a lap. The swim club is large enough to have a decent turnout even on a weekend, but Rin likes the reduced numbers because it makes it easier to focus on individual performances.

“Too much force,” he tells Hanemura brusquely at one end of the pool.

“Not enough power, plus your angle’s off by a fraction so you’re not swimming parallel to the dividers,” he tells Hanemura at the other.

“I think it’s to do with the last breath you take before the kick, you rise too much,” he says, back at the first end of the pool.

Hanemura’s a good kid, a second-year with a drive that reminds Rin of Nagisa. His next lap is perfect; slowed, maybe, but they’ve been going back and forth for a while now, and Rin’s legs are starting to protest at all the pacing as well.

When Hanemura next resurfaces, out of breath, his wide brown eyes hopeful, Rin gives him a firm nod. “Exactly right. Good job, kid.”

Hanemura beams. “Thanks so much, captain!” He bobs about a little, in a sort of duck-like victory dance. Rin tries to hide the twitch of his lips, because his team was full of utter  _dorks_ and he in no way planned on endorsing that. “I was so stressed about that, I had no idea what was bringing my time down. Hayakawa-senpai said-“

And then it happens.

At the edge of Rin’s periphery, something slows down, and goes still. He feels a shadow moving through him, something that chills his heart like dread, and slowly, sluggishly, his body twists around: just in time to watch the last part of Haru’s graceful arc downwards as he collapses.

Rin thinks,  _this has happened before._

His dread deepens. He watches as five of his teammates dive into the pool at the same time. Drag Haru out. The others running to crowd around his fallen friend. And all he can think is:  _it isn’t this way anymore._

But it is, it is. Two third-years separate themselves from the huddle, urgency written on their features. They take off running.  _School nurse,_ one of them says.  _Teacher in charge._

_Captain._

Rin finds himself sprinting, swimming through air. He shoulders his teammates aside and drops to his knees beside Haruka, trying to be calm, trying not to remember his blinding thirteen-year-old panic. “This has happened before,” he finds himself mumbling. Then, louder (get a  _grip,_ Matsuoka), he says, “It’s just a fever. This idiot ignores them until it knocks him out, it’s happened before.”

A hand on his shoulder. Worried eyes, brown not green,  _oh god, Makoto_. “Are you sure, captain?”

Clumsily, Rin presses a hand to Haru’s damp forehead. He’s very deliberately ignoring the way Haru’s so still, completely unmoving, the clamminess of his skin. He’s burningly warm under the layer of water, though, terrifyingly warm, and  _how didn’t he notice, how-_

 Ai appears at Rin’s side, blue eyes curiously steady. “Rin-senpai, you have to calm down. It’s going to be okay. Right?”

A hum of assent from several people. Rin watches Haru until he stops shaking.

*

After the doctor has come in and confirmed what Rin had blurted out in his panic, she asks whether Haru has a guardian who could pick him up and take him home. Rin shakes his head uncertainly.

“It’s quite alright, Matsuoka-kun,” she says gently, possibly seeing the last of his shivers. “He just needs to sleep it off. I think you should just let him rest until he’s feeling a little bit better, and then help him go home.”

Rin nods, and swallows thickly. A few second years are hauling Haru up, and he goes over to give them a hand. Ai runs beside them, keeping up a steady flow of chatter and giving Rin worried looks when he thinks he won’t notice. Kid thinks he’s so smooth.

As he draws his key card to his room, Rin has a moment of briefly, intensely missing Sousuke. Shitstorms like these were when Rin needed Sousuke the most: Sousuke’s able to take charge of things and batter at problems with his cool, unfailing logic until they crumble, while Rin’s busy flipping his shit all over the place. He feels like a flimsy house of cards, flailing about with no foundation. Fucking Sousuke, why couldn’t he stay at school for the weekend for once?

Whatever. Sousuke’s not here, and Makoto’s not here, and it’s about time Rin got his shit together and stopped dumping them on the psychologically well-adjusted.

He and his teammates lower Haru onto the bed, and Rin’s still really fucking uncomfortable with seeing Haru like that so he turns to them and says, “Thanks. I’ll stay behind and give him some aspirin when he wakes up. I appreciate your help.”

Ai nods seriously. “Make sure he drinks lots of water, Rin-senpai!”

They’re slow to leave, calling out more advice that only teenage boys who have no idea how to deal with something like this would give. Rin rolls his eyes and growls a little and shoos them off, and they close the door as they scuttle out like a cluster of concerned and half-offended cockroaches.

 The room is very quiet afterwards.

Rin counts several of his own breaths before he turns to look at Haruka. In this light, the dark bruises around Haru’s eyes look softer; his breathing is even and steady, and at this distance Rin can’t feel the shivery warmth of his skin. He should probably get an old t-shirt or something, and turn it into a washcloth of sorts and keep it over Haru’s forehead, like the nurse suggested. And have a glass of water ready.

Haru continues to sleep, showing no outward sign of his monster fever except for two spots of color, high on his cheekbones. For the first time, Rin feels like he might not fuck this up too spectacularly.

“Haru,” he says, almost-calm. “You really are an idiot.”

*

The washcloth thing turns out to be one of the smartest things Rin’s ever done in his whole life: even asleep, Haru makes a soft noise in his throat as he gently lays it on his forehead, and turns his face towards the coolness. At one point, Haru actually opens his stupid ocean eyes, just an inch, and says his name once- “Rin”- before nodding off again. Rin, who’d started to question whether he was truly asleep or actually unconscious, is staggeringly relieved.

While he’s dealing with his rival’s fevered fucking brow, he contemplates calling Nagisa, once or twice. Nagisa watches out for all of them more than anyone would give him credit for; if he calls, he has no doubt Nagisa will descend, dressed as a penguin or something and burning scented candles and fussing over them both equally.

But that wouldn’t do much good.

Rin flatly, coldly refuses to let this be about his own issues, so the ultimate decision to not call Nagisa doesn’t come from the fact that Nagisa wasn’t there that day in grade school, when Haru fell into the river and nearly died. Nagisa may or may not understand why Rin gets so fucking terrified when he sees Haru like that, but that isn’t why he doesn’t call.

It’s simply because of this: Nagisa can’t help Haru right now. In his state of near-unconsciousness, there’s no way Haru could possibly benefit from Nagisa’s brand of vibrant, flashy optimism. What Haru needs is a cool cloth against his forehead and someone to sprint to the nurse’s office if anything happens, and that’s something that even Rin can handle.

The wait takes the last of the panicky-raw edge off his tension. Haru sleeps like he swims: with a deep and total engrossment, without any room for petty distractions like fidgeting or snoring. Rin calls him a few choice names, but he doesn’t stir; in the name of science, Rin tries saying the word ‘water’ at him, with a disappointing lack of result. He just keeps sleeping, pretty dark eyelashes fanning gently towards his cheeks.

Rin, on the other hand, is notoriously  _bad_ at keeping still. After a few visits back and forth to the drinking fountain, he manages to find an old Tupperware container and fills it with water for Haru’s washcloth, and he perfects the art of renewing it and pressing it back on to Haru’s forehead using just one hand. With the other, he holds the book he’s reading -A History of Great Butterfly Swimmers, with Sousuke’s name crossed out and his name written on the cover leaf- because multitasking is a thing he’s good at.

When Haru opens his eyes, Rin nearly doesn’t notice.

He’s hunched over his book, worrying his lip with his teeth and rethinking his angle of entry when Haru’s head shifts under his hand. Rin’s book falls from his hand in his mad scramble to stare at Haru’s face.

He looks  _awful._ His skin’s a dull grey-pale and his feathery dark hair sticks to his forehead, and the absolute worst of it are his eyes- glittering bright and unnatural, counterpoint to the absolute paleness of his face.

Whatever vestiges of calm Rin had gathered drain immediately, because fuck,  _fuck,_ this wasn’t anything he was even remotely equipped to handle, this was serious, Haru looked  _so sick-_  

Haru says, “Rin,” and it’s not a question. Rin nearly blurts out Haru’s name in return, but manages to stop himself. Instead, he says, “You absolute moron.”

Haru’s too-bright blue eyes blink. “What happened.”

Even in Haru’s trademark monotone, there are edges of actual apprehension. His expression is harder to read; half-asleep, unbelievably ill, his poker face is gone and too many emotions are flickering through his eyes, in lightning-quick succession.

Rin presses a hand to his face, and Haru’s eyes widen. “Easy,” Rin says, startled. “You collapsed during training, do you remember?”

Haru’s skin is still fever-damp to the touch, and Rin’s hand is cooled from holding the washcloth. Haru presses his face into Rin’s hand and Rin’s chest does something weird and shuddery and it hits him again, how fucking  _not okay_ Haru is. Goddammit.

 _Goddammit_.

“Haru,” Rin hears himself say. “Haru, you gotta take these pills, an actual doctor prescribed them and everything.”

He closes his eyes and nods a little, and okay, that’s good, Rin can work with that. He reaches out for the meds and the bottled water: the soft whimper Haru makes when Rin takes his hand away from his face makes Rin’s heart jerk sharply, he’s never forgetting that noise, he’s never going to get over this. Sheer willpower makes his hands steady when he helps Haru swallow the aspirin, and then some more water to wash it down. The process exhausts Haru; he sinks back into the bed, onto Rin’s pillow, his eyes pressed shut.

Rin thinks he’s knocked out again -thinks he might follow him- when Haru’s lips move.

“Hmm?”

Haru opens his eyes again. It takes effort: he’s more tired than Rin’s ever seen him, utterly drained of energy. He still manages to give Rin his most even look, because he’s Haru and he’s persistent like that.

“Don’t tell Makoto,” he says in a thin voice.

Everything goes frighteningly still.

“I didn’t,” Rin hears himself croak. “I won’t.”

He can’t tell if Haru heard him before he fell back asleep.

*

The absolute worst of it happens almost two hours later.

Rin manages to find herbal tea among Sousuke’s shit and naffs off to the second floor kitchen to make some. It smells a little dodgy, but it’s unexpired and fixing it up gives him something to do that’s not staring helplessly at Haru’s face. He hurries back anyway, dashing through the deserted corridors because it would be  _just like_ Haru to wake up while he was gone.

Of course he has.

Rin opens the door to find Haru sitting up in bed, shoulders hunched, looking desperately miserable but maybe a fraction better than he did an hour ago. He scrambles over, careful not to spill any tea on himself, and hands it to Haru. “Drink,” he commands.

Haru does as he’s told. Rin thinks he’d drink anything that was given him, he’s so fucking out of it at this point. He keeps thinking he’s overreacting when Haru’s sleeping more or less peacefully, but no, as soon as Haru wakes up it’s frankly terrible, it’s like trying to deal with someone who’s only half there. The doctor said the fever should tamp down in a few hours, but Rin’s starting to feel like Haru’s gonna burn to a charred wreck if not for the cold cloth he keeps pressing on his forehead. He keeps waking up in fits and spurts, and murmuring people’s names: Rin hears his own a fair few times; Makoto’s, which makes Rin’s chest hurt with the stripped-raw  _longing_ in Haru’s voice; Nagisa and Rei, and once, even Gou.

 Finishing his tea, Haru stares at the leaves at the bottom, clearly having no idea what to make of it. Rin gently plucks it from his grip, which makes him look up: Haru’s eyes are as stupidly blue and depthless as ever, and there’s so much going on in them, gratitude and relief and fear and guilt and  _recognition._

“Rin,” Haru says, confirming Rin’s theory that he’s more awake than he’d been before.

“You really are an idiot,” Rin mutters, feeling his forehead. He’s getting sick of constantly stressing about Nanase Haruka’s goddamn forehead. “I can’t believe you  _swam_ when you weren’t feeling good, that’s the last time I’m ignoring Ai when he gets his paranoia on, jeez, Haru, do you even-“

Haru catches his hand. His long, slender fingers whisper around the paleness of Rin’s wrist. There’s something about his expression, the fevered intensity of his actions, and Rin’s saying his name uncertainly, and Haru must read some of the urgency in Rin’s expression because-

Haru leans over, and kisses him.

Haru  _kisses_ him.

Haru  _kisses_   _him._

 And Rin shakes all over and tries to disconnect from the vastness of what’s happening, Haru’s lips are overwarm and a little damp, but the touch is heart-shatteringly soft and he’s cradling Rin’s face in his hand, careful, reverent, like Rin’s something infinitely precious and at this moment Haru’s happy and in love like in songs, and  _this shouldn’t be happening._

Rin doesn’t get to have Haruka. That is a lesson he learned hard earlier in his life; the only person who comes close to anchoring the free flow of Haru’s spirit is Makoto, Makoto connects him to the world and gives him direction, and Rin has made his peace with that a long time ago. Races were his; loyalty and devotion, that spark in Haru’s eyes when he looks at Makoto, those all belong to the boy Haru loves the most.  

Rin wrenches free. It literally feels like he’s prying a limb off himself, and he is ragged with fear.

They don’t say anything. Haru starts to curl in on himself, like the silence is physically hurting him. His mouth is a sad soft shape, his eyes desolate, his shoulders hunched. He looks as wrecked as any boy who’s just had his heart broken.

Rin says, sounding a thousand years old to his own ears, “Go back to sleep, Haru.”

*

They stop by the doctor’s office before they go. The nurse checks Haru’s temperature and pronounces him fit for travel, and Rin nods his thanks and follows Haru out.

In the front yard, Haru is a lonely toothpick of a figure, huddled in a Samezuka jacket over his own clothes. It’s nearing dusk, so the students are filtering back in in twos and threes; no one spares him a second glance. Rin jogs over, limbs heavy.

It’s been a long day.

“You don’t have to come,” Haru says, not looking at Rin.

Rin doesn’t reply, starts walking instead. After a while, Haru follows.

They sit side-by-side in the train, their arms aligned and jeans rasping against each other, with the unthinking tactility they’ve evolved. Everything has changed, yet nothing has changed. Rin’s aching with fear and longing, but he knows what’s important: he nearly lost Haru for good once, he isn’t stupid enough to risk it again.

Rin  _swears_ not to let this get between them.

And it doesn’t seem like it will; in the long, meandering walk to Haru’s house from the station, Haru seems preoccupied but not resentful, staring out at the sea with eyes no sparklier than usual. Rin’s been holding his breath for what feels like weeks, but slowly, he begins to relax.

Naturally, this is when Haru chooses to speak.

“We changed things,” he says, turning his eyes towards Rin seriously. “Today. Things aren’t the same.”

Rin forces himself to keep walking, to keep his voice light. “Not if we want them to stay the same.”

Haru’s eyes widen. Rin can’t believe this guy. Does he honestly think…

What?

“You had an unrealistically high fever, and you didn’t even know what was going on around you,” Rin says. “Trippy as all hell on painkillers.”

“And?”

Rin grits his teeth.  _Un-fucking-believable._ “And, you weren’t thinking properly! Jeez, Haru, what do you think? You had no idea what-“

“I knew exactly what I was doing.”

Haru’s tone is glacial. His eyes, when Rin meets them, spark with ice and fire. He’s angry, Rin realizes disbelievingly. Nanase Haruka, Prince Indifferent, is nearly shaking with rage,  _incandescent_ with it _._

“Haru,” Rin begins, but Haru cuts him off with an actual  _snarl._

“It changes things for me and Makoto,” he hisses, and Rin actually has to take a step back with the shock of Makoto’s name tossed out like that, “but I did it because I wanted to _.”_

Rin takes a deep breath, and then another. The familiar feeling of things spinning wildly out of his control nearly overwhelms him; just when he’d thought he had his shit figured out, too.

None of it’s had time to hit: Rin’s always thought he was the rabble of Haru’s self-sufficient world, unnecessary jetsam that had its occasional purpose. Because relays and energy and the split-second of absolute resonance before a race are absolutely fucking  _nothing_ compared to what Makoto stands for. How is that not enough? Why is Haru so obsessed with ignoring what he has?

It’s cold. Rin’s chilled all the way down to the bone, and padded up as he is is, Rin sees that Haru’s shivering, too. He shrugs out of his jacket and throws it around Haru, averting his eyes quickly from Haru’s fever-bright ones.

“I…” Rin looks at his feet. His world has shrunken, narrowed until all he can make out are his own battered trainers. They’d been doing  _so well,_ Haru and him. He doesn’t want to think how badly this could ruin them both, but he has a feeling he knows anyway. 

“No, Haru,” he says quietly. He hears a quiet, sharp exhale released into the air between them; Haru’s an idiot, but Rin thinks even he must’ve seen this coming. “I love you. But Makoto’s good for you.”

Rin looks back up fiercely. He’s crying; he knows he’s crying, it’s a stupid and terrible thing to be doing but he’s never had any control over it. Haru looks like maybe he isn’t breathing, eyes impossibly wide.

“B-Besides,” Rin adds, in a horrible choked stutter, “you only get one dream t-to come true, and no way am I blowing it on a chance to b-be with your punk ass.”

Haru’s eyes shut. He stays like that for a second, two, five. Backlit by the starburst of blues and oranges of the sunset, he looks unreal, like every myth that rose from the sea. Haru was such an odd little fucklet in that way- made up of pieces of magic and stubbornness, so that Rin could never tell why someone so amazing could also seem so human.  _I’ll show you a sight you’ve never seen before,_ Rin thinks, and that makes him feel…not better, but fractionally less like he’s dying and taking Haru with him.

Haru’s eyes re-open. “Okay,” he says, with only the barest hitch in his voice.

Rin nods at him, almost serene. “Okay,” he agrees softly.

For a moment, neither of them moves. Partners, co-conspirators. Haru’s eyes are sad and a little lost, making Rin feel all of twelve years old again, frightened and desperately unhappy.

He’s not, though. He’s seventeen, he’s captain of his swim team, and he has just defended a bridge he never intends to burn again. Along the way, he has gathered enough strength to shrug this silence off, reach out and drape an arm around Haru’s hunched shoulders. “C’mon, Haru. I’ll never stop laughing if you’re lame enough to die from the ‘flu.”

Haru makes an irritated ‘tch’ noise, and yanks his gaze sharply towards his multiple collars. Rin snorts. 

His insides still feel scraped raw, but this is something. This is a start. 

*

Fallen asleep on the steps in Haru's house is Makoto, snoring softly, hair stuck to his face. 

Rin's feet nearly go out under him from the shock of it, of Makoto's presence, like an accusation. It's  _weird_ to feel so conflicted when he sees him, because Rin's always fucking adored Makoto beyond reason and he's blown it, there's no way he's looking at Makoto without remembering how he feels right now.

Whatever. Makoto's the one who fought so hard for Haru in the first place, never straying. Rin can yearn and yearn but he'll always have his track record of shitty life choices behind him, and he'll never forget even if Haru, in his sponge-brained idiocy ( _I did it because I wanted to),_  does.

Haru is staring at him, impassive. Aside from the slight, sad tightening of his mouth, he seems mostly fine. "I'm going inside."

Rin nods, throat dry. Haru doesn't bother nodding back, instead nudging Makoto with his foot as he passes. Makoto wakes up slowly, eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. Rin's chest is tight, tight. "Yo," he says.

When he sees him, Makoto's stunning green eyes go soft and glad; for a moment, it's as if Rin's the best thing about his life, the source of all sparkles and rainbows and kittens and suchlike. Rin blushes, and looks away; he's used to his days lighting up when he sees Makoto _,_ but proof that maybe Makoto thinks the same thing about him sits uncomfortably.

"Hello, Rin," counters Makoto. He's smiling, his eyes brimming with quiet contentment. Then: "Did Haru go inside?"

Instantly, Rin tenses. He can feel his shoulders go rigid before he can control himself, sees Makoto's summer eyes dim. "Um. Yeah," he says, rubbing his neck and looking away at the bare utilitarian expanse of Haru's living room. "He went inside. He, um. He mentioned he wasn't feeling too good."

Out of the tail of his eye, he sees Makoto cock his head, puzzled, his smile uncertain. "Haru said that?"

"Not in so many words," Rin says quickly. "Like, he wasn't swimming his best. So we came home so he could rest up or whatever. Regionals coming up, can't have him messing around in the water."

Makoto stands up. Rin loses all ability to breathe, watching as Makoto looms over him from two steps above. Rin feels vaguely sick himself, like something's churning and churning in his stomach, bubbling its way out. It tastes like guilt and shame at the back of his throat, guilt and shame, his old friends. 

Makoto touches his face with his warm, warm hands. Rin flinches. "Rin, you're crying," Makoto says, voice soft and wondering. "Rin. Did something happen at practice today?"

Rin's hair whips into his eyes as he shakes his head frantically. "Nope, no, it's all fine, I lost my goggles today and my eyes got a few blasts of chlorine. I'm fine." His voice is shaking like a leaf. Desperately, he adds, "You should check on Haru, aren't you supposed to be his-"

Rin's words choke off. "Shh," Makoto winds his arms around him, presses his mouth onto Rin's hair. Rin shudders all over. "Of course you're fine, Rinrin. You're with us. You're our friend, we'd never let anything happen to you."

More afraid than he's ever been, Rin throws his arms around Makoto's shoulders in turn and hugs him back, quick, fierce. " _No,_ you," he mumbles before breaking away. 

Makoto's chuckling a little, but his eyes are tight with worry. "Rin, you're kind of freaking me out," he admits.

"Just go check on Haru," Rin tells him. "I'm heading back, we still have curfews on weekends."

Makoto nods. He looks a little tired, not too apprehensive. Mostly he looks like he wants Rin to be okay, in the way only Makoto can, warm and soft and genuine. _Haru, you blind, brain-dead moron._

"Want me to walk you to the station?"

Rin gapes, speechless with incredulity, and Makoto bursts out laughing. "I just wanted to see you make that face," Makoto says, slanting him a grin.

Rin tries not to smile. "Devious wench," he calls, before leaves. "Tell Haru I plan on racing him as soon as he feels better!"

"I will!" Makoto sings back. "Take care, Rin!" 

Only after the dots of light coming from Haru's house recede does Rin allow himself to let go of the breath he’d been holding. His heart’s been punched out and replaced with broken glass and sawdust along the course of the day, but still he finds he can put one foot in front of the other. The road is solid under him, spanning ahead, fraught with possibility like an eternal summer.

THE END

_When the sky fell in_  
 _When the hurricanes came for me_  
 _I could finally crash again_  
 _And that's how I became the sea_

_-Owl City, "How I Became the Sea"_


End file.
